It's a Blonde Thing
by itisimplicit
Summary: Rachel and Blair are room-mates in the New York Colleges dorms- and they both have beautiful friends. Faberry and Blairena, with Blachel bromance.
1. Meetings

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! If I did, you would be able to tell, trust me.**

When Blair arrives at her dorm at NYU, she's shocked to find that she has a roommate and didn't manage to get a single. She looks at Serena in indignation- she's helping her unpack- fully prepared to go storming to the Dean's Office and demand a reallocation, but she just shakes her head and tells her to suck it up. Blair pouts, leans over and opens a box, the bare bed opposite taunting her. She's never had to share a room in her life before, and the thought that she is being forced to do so with a complete stranger niggles at her all the way through unpacking her things, walking the five blocks to Serena's dorm, helping her settle in and on the way back. By the time she's returned, her roommate is already all moved in and out somewhere.

There are Broadway playbills neatly tacked to the wall and a tiara on a shelf, nestling in front of a photograph of a group of people smiling exuberantly, holding a trophy and in absolutely dreadful outfits. Pinned to the bulletin board is a Metro Pass- New York to New Haven- and a large, golden, bedazzled star rests above the bed. Blair is staring at this in outrage, having never seen anything quite as twee in her life before, when a soft voice comes from behind her.

"Stars are kind of my thing."

/

Rachel Berry could be a lot worse as a roommate, Blair decides, a week into term. She was a music student at NYADA, of all places, and yes, she did have a rigorous morning routine, but she also fetched her coffee, and was surprisingly accommodating about closet space. She was easy to talk to, and was full of stories from back home in Lima, especially about her best friend, Quinn, who had turned out to be the source of the Metro Passes on the bulletin board.

Rachel spends an almost extortionate amount of time on Skype to this mysterious Quinn- they call each other at least once a day- and Blair would tease her about it, honestly, she really would, but she meets Serena every day for coffee, and sometimes for lunch as well, so she really has no room to poke fun. Blair's curious about Quinn. She sounds intriguing, and everything Rachel says about her just increases her need for gossip and confirmation.

Unfortunately, she goes to Yale, and grew up in Lima -i.e. The Middle of Nowhere- so there is nothing on Gossip Girl about her, and Blair sometimes regrets severing all ties with that one girl in her grade who went to New Haven. It's just so unbelievable- she has never met or heard of a girl whom, within the space of three years, was the head of the Celibacy Club and head cheerleader, got pregnant, had the baby and gave her up for adoption, fought her way back to the top of the popularity pile again, became a Skank (with a Ryan Seacrest tattoo of all things), reformed, attempted to steal her baby off her adoptive mother, who also happened to be Rachel's biological mother- "two gay dads, remember"- stopped being crazy, got into Yale, ended up in a car accident (on the way to Rachel's wedding- Blair was relieved to find out that she doesn't have a husband hiding somewhere), learned to walk again and danced at the National Glee Championships, which ended up getting Rachel into NYADA.

"Your life is like a really bad TV show," Blair says one day, when they're out walking in Central Park. It's a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky, and far too good to waste inside. It's the kind of weather Serena loves, but she's got a paper due and isn't leaving her room until it's done. Blair doesn't mind that much- Rachel's pretty good company, even when she randomly bursts out into song, which happens far more than a casual observer would expect- but she can't help begrudging her absence. Just a little bit though. It would be nice to have someone with her who didn't know all the dialogue of Funny Girl.

Rachel smiles in response and carelessly says something about it all being perfectly suited for her celebrity memoirs, but she's not really listening. A giddy wave of nostalgia hits her as a group of girls in the Constance Billiard uniform walk past, and suddenly she's thinking back over her childhood- picnics here, Dorota playing Catch with her, sailing model boats on the lake.

"You okay, Blair?" Rachel asks, looking at her worriedly.

"Yeah, sorry. Those girls just reminded me- I went to that school." She points, and Rachel looks at the uniform, half-wrinkling her nose at the blazers.

"Lucky you," she sniggers.

Blair pushes her in mock-indignation, and Rachel nudges her back. As they giggle and play fight down the path, she's suddenly filled with a sense of well-being. Maybe having a roommate wasn't such a bad thing.

/

The first time Quinn visits Rachel it rains. They were going to go the Met, but Rachel vetoed it (much to Blair's amusement), citing the "scientific fact" that rain makes your bones ache, so it would wait. Quinn gave in surprisingly easily, and so they opted for indoor activities.

That evening, they sit together on Rachel's bed and watch The Great Gatsby (Quinn's choice). The brunette is visibly happy, curled up next to her, whispering softly about Mia Farrow. Blair sits in the corner, pretending to study, and watches Quinn more than she writes. She's blonde and tall and fragile and looks a little like Grace Kelly. She moves stiffly still, and coughs- she has bronchitis for the second time this year, left over from the accident, Blair presumes- and reminds her so much of Serena that it almost hurts, in a strange way. She's the same as her when she's interested or excited- lit up from the inside, and even though she is literally, like five blocks away, and they met for coffee this morning, Blair suddenly misses her with an intensity that surprises her.

As evening draws into night, Rachel and Quinn curl up together under the covers, unwittingly tangling their limbs together in their sleep. It's weirdly adorable, and Blair holds her stuffed rabbit until she, too, falls asleep.


	2. Gilmore Girls

**Disclaimer: I still don't own anything.**

When Rachel first met her roommate, she was apprehensive to say the least. It was vital- absolutely vital- that she formed a strong bond with whomever it was that she would be sharing her freshman year with. She had no wish for college to end up the same way most of her high school career had. A good roommate was the first step on the road to a good group of friends. So, when she walked in on her first day, and saw a severe looking brunette pulling a face at the bedazzled star that she and Quinn had spent some considerable amount of time on in the summer- she was worried.

But a week in, her opinion of Blair is completely different. They actually have a lot in common- her dad is gay, they both have an almost encyclopaedic knowledge about Audrey Hepburn and they can talk about things. It's nice- she's never had a friend like this before- except for Quinn. But Quinn's special – special to her like Blair's friend Serena is to Blair.

Her classes are really good. Everyone else at NYADA is so talented, and sometimes it's overwhelming, but she takes a breath when she gets scared and intimidated by the competition- and she knows they're not meant to be competition, but, let's face it, there are auditions for everything and therefore, she is competing against them- and remembers that she's a star. Or that, at least, the people who matter think that she's a star. Quinn tells her practically every night.

She doesn't think that it's strange that she and Quinn talk more than most couples in long-distance relationships talk to their other halves. It's a best friend thing. Blair sees Serena every day, and they have the same sort of close, loving friendship that she and Quinn do. They go out for coffee together and text almost constantly. Rachel thinks it's sweet.

/

The first time Rachel meets Serena, it's a sunny day. Not a cloud in the sky. They're in Central Park, and Blair is holding a chai latte, whining about the temperature, more for effect than anything else. Rachel is enjoying the soft sunshine as she sits on the edge of the fountain, and they are waiting for Serena, who is apparently heading over. Blair is about five minutes from a full-blown diva fit when a blonde figure strides out of the distance. Rachel's breath catches in her throat.

She's taken the precaution of doing some preliminary research on Gossip Girl (which may be a gossip-mongering website that she completely disapproves of, but can be extremely useful) so that she knows which topics to avoid, and which names not to bring up. So, Serena's appearance shouldn't be coming as a shock to her- she knows what she looks like, there was a picture on the website- but something about her in person so reminds her of Quinn.

She's taller than Quinn, and her hair is longer, and Quinn's definitely prettier- she can say that for sure. Quinn is the prettiest girl she has ever met, after all, but there is something about her eyes. They light up when Blair waves at her, and the blonde girl is almost sparkling with eagerness- just like Quinn does when she opens a new book, or watches a film, and like she was when she cheered before- well, before.

Blair suggests going to the playground, and Serena breaks out into a widely infectious grin.

"Race you" she smiles, catching Blair's hand and dragging her off, running, but not really racing. They're more moving in sync, like they've been running places together all their lives. Rachel trails behind them, inexplicably missing Quinn.

/

It comes as a bit of a shock to her when a girl in her Musicals through the Ages class asks her if her roommate is gay. She stutters wordlessly for a minute, and then says no. She doesn't think so, anyway. With a confused tilt of the head, she asks the girl why she'd asked.

The girl (what was her name? Gabrielle, maybe? Or was it Avery? Rachel wasn't sure) shrugs, and says "I just thought she and Serena van der Woodson were an item."

Rachel firmly denies that, and smoothly changes the topic back to Medieval Troubadours.

When she gets home, she tells Blair. The news literally blindsides her. Her mouth drops into an "O" of surprise and she collapses on to her bed.

"Are you?" Rachel feels the need to check.

"No, of course not- no" Blair shakes her head in disbelief, "Why would anybody think that? I've dated boys before- so has Serena- we're just good friends. Like you and Quinn."

"Yeah, like me and Quinn." Rachel agrees.

Blair narrows her eyes. "Wait, are you gay?"

"What! No! I nearly got married!"

"Is Quinn gay?"

"No- she had a baby!"

"So you're just good friends, like me and Serena."

"Yeah."

"So, I'm not gay."

"Nope"

"And neither are you?"

"That's right."

"Cool. Do you want to watch Gilmore Girls?"

They both turn to the television, putting that incredibly awkward conversation out of their heads. They're not gay. Just great friends.

**A/N: Reviews are love.**


	3. Essays

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews and the alerts! I've been grinning like a crazy thing for a while.**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own anything**

_Describe your idea of perfect love, and how it applies to your daily life._

_By Blair Waldorf_

_The concept of perfect love is something that people have been questing after for years. We're told when we're small- through the medium of Disney and fairy tales- that it is only achievable through the finding of a Prince Charming and a happy ever after. I have dated princes- and they are never charming. In fact, they are boorish in the extreme. They tend to be obsessed with wealth, and the paparazzi are dreadful. Their life is ruled by their family, and they, deep down, really want a family member to die so that they can assume a position of power. They choose their life partner based on money or bloodline, which is not what perfect love should be. _

_Disney represents perfect love in a completely biased, stupid way. Who would pick their life partner based on their shoe size? Would you really want to marry a man who threatened to kill your father for picking a rose, and kidnapped you in exchange for his life? Stockholm Syndrome probably explains that one, but it still isn't what love should be. Mulan is often held up to be the most accurate portrayal of perfect love, but how stupid must the guy be to notice that she was disguised as a man for quite some significant time? It would grow to be grating over time, and their relationship would not last. This is not what perfect love should be._

_By the time we hit puberty; perfect love is sold to us through the form of a quarterback asking us to the school dance. But alliances are fickle, and he'll probably spend the whole night staring at another girls' assets. Too often, popularity is the only factor in who dates who. The quarterback may adore the nerdy girl who has no friends, but he is more likely to ask out the head cheerleader, as it is expected (and she's probably more likely to put out). Together, they will rule the school, and it takes a strong, remarkable person to date who he truly wants when the other option is popularity and a 'little something something.' It rarely happens. Therefore, high school romance is not what perfect love should be._

_By eighteen, marriage is meant to be a true representation of perfect love, but a third of American teenagers come from a broken home. Even marriages that don't break up are often unhappy, or are entered into for the wrong reasons. For example, people get married for money or in desperation because they feel that they have nothing else in their life, or to trap a brighter star within their toxic grasp, or because of pregnancy, or family pressure. Marriages that are entered into with love break down just as often as those who are not. Romantic love is too often based on physical attractiveness, on wanting to explore carnal desires. As soon as the beauty fades, so does the love. This is not what perfect love should be. _

_Perfect love is someone remembering your coffee order. It's sitting in bed, eating bagels with raspberry jelly and cream cheese, when the sun breaks over the curtains. It's sitting through the other person's appalling taste in movies because seeing them smile is worth it. It's running like children through the park and swinging on the swing sets until you get dizzy. It's dancing in the rain, and sneaking out of school and sharing problems over tea. It's being there for one another, no matter what. _

_It's in the curve of an elbow- an extended calf on a ballet barre, the tip toes reached when they're reaching something two shelves above them, a curve of a lip when thinking. It's reading what the other person is thinking by the expression on their face. _

_Perfect love is being able to relax together- not caring about what people think or how you're dressed. It's being embraced in acceptance. It's knowing that the other person will call you out on things if you're being insufferable, and that you will row, that you will attempt to knock them out on a hockey field- but knowing that you will make up, and spend time with them again._

_This applies to my daily life in the form of my best friend. Perfect love is the platonic love we share- we are always there for each other, and our relationship, I believe, will last longer than most romantic loves. We don't have the insecurity and problems that come with committing your whole life to another person. Yes, boys will come and go, but we will always be best friends- and this acceptance of other people in our lives makes our love stronger. We avoid the traps of lust and romantic love, and instead we exist in a perfect sphere of happiness. This is perfect love._

_We go for coffee, and watch awful films, and know where to find each other when we're upset. We know the worst and the best of each other, and we can call upon each other when we're upset- and we'll go, even if it's on Thanksgiving. She is the best part of me, and I hope that I am at least a part of her. That is what perfect love should be- and I've found it with her. _

_So, in conclusion, my idea of perfect love is Serena van der Woodsen, and how it applies to my daily life is my friendship with her._

A-

Good work, Blair! You started very well, and I particularly enjoyed how you described what perfect love should be. I was a little confused by it being your best friend- I half expected a significant other. Your conclusion was a little brief, and your introduction needed to outline your argument more clearly, but your use of humour was very good. A little informal, perhaps, but your style will improve with time. I'm impressed!

Prof C

**A/N: Reviews make me smile**


	4. Experiments

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

Rachel's lying on her bed, trying to read Les Miserables for class and getting overly frustrated- it's just so long- when Blair walks in, clutching an essay and looking slightly unhinged. Her normally immaculate hair is ruffled, and her scarf is on crooked. For a perfectionist like Blair, that is unusual indeed.

She sits up curiously, and Blair sinks on to the bed next to her, turns and says "How would you define perfect love?"

Rachel frowns. "Well, I would say Finn- letting me go to New York- but he never remembered that I was vegan and was far too interested in touching my breasts to really listen to me- so not that- um, Romeo- no, he was stupid- Tony and Maria? No, they rushed it."

She scrapes around her knowledge of musicals and plays, making a list and mentally discounting everyone on it. Then she has a flash of inspiration.

"Romantic love is too flawed. Me and Quinn- our relationship- that's perfect love"

Blair nods approvingly.

"Read this," she says, passing the essay over.

Rachel scans the neatly written words, nodding in agreement, and frowns at the teacher's comment. "Significant other?" she says, confused.

"Yeah- that's what I thought."

"That's strange."

"There's more."

She tells Rachel about the Professor gently, kindly mentioning the GSA to her, about the counsellors available and a brief mention of having a best friend like that once, and her stuttered reaction, half-anger and half-shock.

"She thinks what you feel for Serena- and consequently, what I feel for Quinn- is romantic love?" Rachel sums up, looking confused.

Blair nods succinctly.

Rachel looks at her, and chews her knuckle.

"Oh," she whispers.

"Wouldn't that make us gay?" she asks a minute or so later, whispering it, almost scared.

"Maybe," Blair whispers back.

"So, hypothetically, if I was in love with Quinn, I'd find other girls attractive…"

"…and if I was in love with Serena, I would too." Blair finishes.

There's an awkward pause.

"Do you think we should check?" Rachel says, so quietly that she's almost mouthing silently.

"We could."

"…"

"…"

"No, I'm not gay," Blair says, wiping her mouth.

"Me either."

"No offence."

"Ditto"

Rachel picks up her book again, and Blair hurriedly moves to the desk. They study for the rest of the afternoon, and each privately determine to- with an air of relief- never, ever mention it again.

They've checked. They're not gay. It's all good.

/

Quinn has a date. Rachel smiles and congratulates, and asks all the right questions, but has to fight back tears.

She goes to bed after they disconnect and wakes up to a damp pillow.

His name is Alex, and is perfectly charming, and he's brunette and funny and likes tea. Quinn's happy, and Rachel has no idea why she's so sad.

She still talks to Quinn every night, and she's never seen Alex, lounging around in the back of the webcam. Quinn is still Quinn- kind and funny and witty.

But she still cries into her pillow.

A guy in Theatre Studies asks her out, and she says no.

She doesn't know why- she hasn't missed Finn in weeks- and he's exactly her type. Tall, with a leading man quality and would look great in a suit. But the thought of dating anybody is suddenly unappealing. She feels like she did in high school- pining, but over something unfathomable.

/

When Blair tentatively suggests, pale and terrified, that they go to a GSA meeting- as allies, of course, because of their dads- Rachel agrees. They spend the hour or so before watching The Great Gatsby (the Mia Farrow version).

**A/N: I love everyone. **


	5. Coffee

**A/N: Sorry for the long gap between updates- I had final exams and then a hangover from celebrating the end of said exams. But I'm free now, so hopefully they will be far more frequent.**

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

Rachel skypes Quinn that night, as usual. They chat about nothing for a while- school, the weather, and homework- and then Rachel tentatively tells her where she and Blair went that evening. Quinn looks surprised for a second, and Rachel opens her mouth to explain, terrified that she might have got the wrong idea, but the blonde cuts her off, leaning forward into the screen.

"Was it any fun?" She's biting her lip, like she does when she's nervous, and thinking.

"Yeah, the people were nice. No vegan snacks though." Rachel grabs at that one innocuous detail- offering it up to her.

Quinn laughs, shaking her head.

"That's you all over," she says, "Always thinking of your stomach."

"Quinn Fabray! Retract that statement at once. It is a blatant untruth."

The rest of the conversation devolves into light bickering, and the GSA isn't mentioned again. Rachel can't help but breathe a slight sigh of relief. She hadn't been scared of Quinn's reaction- well, not exactly, anyway- but the gentle subject change and acceptance of this activity as normal relaxes her somewhat, removing anxiety that she wasn't sure she had.

Life moves back to normal after those excruciating few days. She visits Quinn in New Haven, marvelling at the clear, crisp winter air and the snow that covers everything. She doesn't meet Alex, and Quinn doesn't mention him. They drink tea with hot lemon, and she fusses over the blonde's cough. The cold weather isn't particularly kind to her damaged lungs and she has yet another chest infection. Rachel dresses her in jumpers and they go to plays and watch reruns of The Big Bang Theory curled up in her dorm room, quietly comparing her roommate to Sheldon Cooper. He's a physics major, so she feels justified.

/

Blair hadn't enjoyed the meeting. It had been full of irritating hipsters, all wearing variations of the same outfit and hairstyle. It looked like a Tumblr meet-up. She wouldn't have been seen dead there last year- or even last week. It was dreadful. Awful. Humiliating. She tells herself this over and over on the way there, during and on the way back- but she can't quite shake the feeling of acceptance and peace in that small room. She can't quite shake the urge to come back.

She feels better, somehow. More free. She knows that there is a small group of people- however appallingly dressed, and however obsessed with multi-coloured plaid- that will accept her for who she is. Not that she's gay. She isn't. But for her having a slightly too close relationship with her best friend- they'd be cool with that, surely. Some of them have piercings in their lips, for goodness sake. They are really in no position to judge.

She's smiling more now. Serena notices, of course, and gently teases her about it. She has no idea about the GSA- Blair hasn't told her, and nor does she intend to- so, she presumes it's a boy and relentlessly tries to figure out who exactly is making her crotchety best friend so happy. She will not accept her outraged denials, and Blair's half-tempted to make up a crush just to keep her quiet, but she just can't bring herself to do it.

A happy Serena makes a happy Blair. That's how it's always been, even back in the days of the non-judging breakfast club, and that's how it will remain. And if it takes having to put up with merciless ragging about a non-existent crush, she'll take it, because Serena has become an integral part of her. She just feels better when she's around.

They're meeting up for a coffee one chilly morning, and Blair's running late. She arrives at their usual haunt flustered and rushing, and Serena waves at her, gesturing at a steaming cup with a scrawled Blair on the side. She flops into the seat next to the blonde and smiles at her widely.

"Chai?" she asks, picking up the cup.

"Of course," Serena grins, "I know your coffee order."

It's at times like this, Blair thinks, sitting next to her, sipping at her latte, that she's pretty sure that Serena is her soul mate- and she means this in the most platonic way possible, of course. They just fit so well together. They can sit together in silence and just be happy. They're perfect.

/

On-stage, Rachel is confident, fearless. Off-stage, Rachel's scared of a lot of things. People wouldn't think it to look at her, but she is. She's scared of choking again. She's scared of singing and no one applauding. She's scared of no one liking her. She's scared of getting pregnant and ruining her career. She's scared that she's too small and too unattractive to succeed on Broadway.

She's scared of the way that she's started to look at Quinn. She's scared of the way that's she started to look at girls other than Quinn. It's a way that is far more than jealously or comparison. More in the way of admiration. She has two dads and she goes to the GSA- it shouldn't bother her- but it does. She so badly doesn't want to be the token gay kid of the two gay fathers. She doesn't want to be the living, walking evidence that can be misused by far-right groups in order to campaign for the eradication of gay parenthood, because it just perpetuates more gay children. This is untrue, of course- she just doesn't want to have to live it. She wants acceptance. A husband. Babies without IVF. Not lingering eyes on leotards in ballet or absent-minded appreciation of someone walking in front of her in the hallways.

She buries her feelings in her performances. She sings until the crumbled mass of her emotions dissipates, and there's no Quinn or cute sophomore who takes her tap classes, but just the song and the words and the right emotion for that song.

**A/N: Reviews are like cookies. **


	6. Thanksgiving

**Disclaimer: Still not mine**

**A/N: Sorry for the really long wait. I had a major attack of writer's block. Thank you for bearing with me. I love you all :) **

There's a girl in Blair's Conflicted Cultures class that she can't stop looking at. She doesn't dress well, and isn't at all popular, and in high school, Blair wouldn't have looked at her twice-or even once- but there's just something about her that keeps drawing Blair's eyes to the back of her neck and the smooth slope of her shoulders.

Her hair's cropped close, but curls a little at the edges, like it's trying to escape. She's pale, with angular cheekbones that look like they could cut glass- and Blair often finds herself thinking of words to describe the exact shade of green of her eyes instead of taking notes.

On November 16th- one week before thanksgiving, and four days before they go on break- the girl asks her if she can borrow a pen. Blair stutters, blushes, and drops it. She probably would have fallen over if she hadn't been sitting down.

This messes her up, big time. She's never acted like that before- not even with Chuck. She can't tell Serena- obviously, because it's another girl, and that would shake up all sorts of questions that Blair is most definitely not ready to answer- not even to herself -yet.

So, she tells Rachel, casually over Chinese, sitting in their dorm room and Rachel looks at her, half-quizzically for a second. Then she laughs, and announces that it sounds like she has a crush. Blair freaks out, and hits her with a pillow, spilling chow mein and steamed rice everywhere. They end up fighting, giggling helplessly, and it finishes with Rachel straddling her, crowing.

Blair fake sulks for some considerable time, but then it's nearly Thanksgiving and a whole glorious week beckons of her and Serena at home, chilling together and eating bad food, and she can't bring herself to be mad anymore, so they make up, and talk about the girl seriously this time.

"Could just be a chemical thing," Rachel suggests.

Blair agrees, and pushes it to the back of her head, concerning herself instead with picking the perfect outfits for every social event over the holiday season. Before long, it's time for them to leave their cramped dorm room, and for the festivities to begin.

/

Thanksgiving for Rachel is Lima, and the Glee Club and Quinn. She's sort of worried about seeing Finn again, but the thought of spending the break with the blonde by her side makes her feel about a million times better about the whole thing. They fly back from New York together. Quinn lets her sit by the window, and they share a water, and she doesn't even mind when Rachel digs her nails into her hand when they're taking off so hard that it leaves marks.

Her dads are ecstatic when they see her, and so are her neighbours, and extended family, but after New York, everything feels flat. She can't get used to waking up craving junk food with no way to get any until the shops open the next day. It's too quiet and she can't sleep. People in Glee are as grating as ever and now she actually notices when they subtly insult her.

Compared to the easy, comfortable friendships she has with her classmates back at school; it feels terrible to have people roll their eyes every single time she makes a suggestion. She accepts that in high school, she was probably really hard to get along with, but she's unbent a lot since then, and her 'friends' don't seem to realise that.

But it's fantastic to have Quinn in walking distance from her, and she ends up spending a lot of time with the girl. They go to Breadstix and laugh at how great they used to think it was, watch bad movies, and spend an extortionate amount of time reading- Quinn because she loves it, and Rachel because she has to for some of her classes at school. She's tried suggesting that Quinn read them, and just tell her what happens, but she always refuses and half-heartedly tells her off, barely lifting her nose out of Wuthering Heights to admonish her.

They have a Glee Club party- well, Rachel offers out her basement, for old times' sake, and Quinn does the actual organising. Puck, back from LA, looking tan and sophisticated, provides the drink, and it degenerates into a slightly more vulgar version of the Rachel Berry Trainwreck Extravaganza of their junior year, minus the duets.

They play spin the bottle, and Rachel gets Quinn. She shrugs and smiles, and they lean towards one another, and it's like the world is in slow motion. Rachel's blushing, and they touch lips, and god, her eyes flutter closed and it's like she's coming home and she finally understands what people mean by fireworks. She's pretty sure that the moon has fallen out of the sky. Quinn tastes like lipstick and strawberries and it's chaste and sweet and perfect and was that her tongue? That was her tongue. They're going to have to stop kissing soon else she'll be a puddle on the floor, but god, it's Quinn and it's perfect and they really should stop.

She pulls away, giddily, forcing herself to calm down, and Quinn's smiling, softly, and looking at her.

They move back to their seats amidst cat calling and cheering, and Rachel can't help but think that maybe everything has changed.

/

Thanksgiving on the Upper East Side is as elaborate and as magical as it always is. Dinner is sumptuous. The pumpkin pie is perfect, and Serena is effortlessly beautiful. Blair can't keep her eyes off her. She becomes obsessed with her legs.

They talk a lot, about everything. They sit, the two of them, up in Blair's room, eating bagels with cream cheese and jelly, letting the sunlight pour in.

Serena asks Blair about why she's never around on a Tuesday night.

She swallows, and picks at her bagel, getting crumbs everywhere.

"GSA meetings are on a Tuesday," she stutters out, after what seems like an age.

Serena, to her credit, doesn't look shocked- just faintly surprised.

"How come you started going to them?" she asks, gently.

Blair opens her mouth and prepares to tell the lie that she's been telling everyone- even herself- for the last two months. But she can't.

She likes the GSA because she feels accepted. She looks at other girls too long. She blushed like a silly teenager when a pretty woman asked to borrow a pen. Last night, when Serena stayed over, she was fascinated by the pale strip of flesh apparent between her top and sleep shorts every time she stretched.

She closes her mouth again.

"What's up?" Serena says.

"I don't want to tell you- I can't tell anyone."

The words escape her in a strangled squeak, and she starts after them far too late.

Serena scoots over, puts her arm around her, and says "Remember what you said to me at thanksgiving two years ago?"

Blair keeps silent. She can't talk. It's like her voice has gone on holiday to Timbuktu. She does remember though.

Serena tells her anyway.

"I'm not anyone. I'm me. You can tell me anything. We're sisters, you're my family, what is you, is me. There's nothing you could ever say to make me let go. I love you."

**A/N: Reviews are cupcakes with sprinkles. **


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